


take me back to the night

by starrywrite



Category: On My Block (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Missing Scene, Pre-Canon, Slice of Life, this is not smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-11-27 22:13:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20955740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrywrite/pseuds/starrywrite
Summary: It was planned, but at the same time it wasn’t.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> all i want from “on my block” is flashback scenes but until they deliver, i’ll just have to write them myself! 
> 
> disclaimer: obviously two fourteen year olds should Not be having sex and i don’t support the notion of two literal children doing the do. also condoms are important. so is communication and consent.
> 
> s/o to tianna for unknowingly inspiring me to write this and giving me the words i've been missing for so long <3
> 
> title from lord huron’s song “the night we met”

It was planned, but at the same time it wasn’t. 

It wasn’t something they talked about, not in detail anyway. They both agreed they wanted to be each other’s first; they were best friends after all, who else would take care of them better than they would? And no matter how hard they tried to pretend that there wasn’t, there was something between the two of them. An unspoken Thing that made Monse’s face go bright red and her heart race in her chest. An unspoken Thing that made the usually suave and confident Cesar Diaz trip over his words and smile in a way she’s never seen him smile at anyone else. 

It just sort of happened but she thinks that they both knew it would happen tonight. She leaves for writing camp tomorrow morning and she’ll be gone for the rest of the summer, no cell service out in the woodsy location where she’ll be staying. She already packed the notebook he gave her in the front pocket of her backpack because the more she looked at it, the more she would think about his sloppy handwriting -- _for my favorite author from her biggest fan_ \-- on the inside cover. 

She’s leaving tomorrow morning and she’ll never admit it out loud but she’s terrified that he’ll forget about her. Out of sight, out of mind is what they say, right? Maybe that’s why she wants to do this right here and now. Maybe she doesn’t want to admit that she’s always wanted to do it with Cesar. Maybe she doesn’t want to admit that she has a feeling he’s always wanted to do it with her. 

They’re not in love. They’re fourteen and they are not Romeo and Juliet or Tony and Maria. But he’s special and she wants him in her life for the long run. She wants him, period. It’s as simple and as complicated as that. 

It just sort of happens and one minute they’re kissing, the next they’re a tangled mess of limbs, his calloused hands caressing skin, her fingers touching him in ways she’s only ever imagined. They’ve kissed before but not like this, sloppily and needy and desperate for more. Neither of them know what they were doing. It’s awkward to say the least but they both laugh a lot, shy giggles escaping their lips like bubbles fizzing over a shaken soda can. Their faces are both red and their skin is flushed and hot. He holds her so carefully she almost felt like she was a priceless vase or another family heirloom that needed to be cared for oh, so gently.

She thanks God that her dad isn’t home, not that they would be doing this if he was, because they’re both so loud, it’s almost embarrassing. She bites her lip, trying to muffle her own moans, while kissing him hard whenever he makes the same sound. It doesn’t last long. She isn’t sure if she expected it to; in the movies it always seems like time goes by with the way they fade the scenes together and slow everything down. But it’s only a few minutes later that they’re both finished. Her whole body feels like jelly and they take a few moments just to lay with each other, melted together like two ice cubes on a hot summer day. 

When he finally sits up, his back is to her as he disposes the condom in her wastebasket and pulls his boxers on. She watches him, her eyes creating constellations in the moles and freckles on his back. She doesn’t have to try but she turns his hunched shoulders into poetry and until now, she had no idea what a muse was but right now, in his moment, she does. Now she does. 

He crawls back into bed next to her, lying down beside her like this is where he belongs. He’s sticky, they both are. She pulls her comforter up to cover her chest despite the fact that she’s sleek with sweat. She knows she should shower but she’s far too exhausted for that. Everything now is so un-sexy but it’s still nice. “You okay?” he asks. His voice is soft, a voice reserved just for her and it makes her feel Things that she can’t quite explain. It’s nice though. 

“I’m okay,” she replies, smiling in earnest. “Are you okay?” she asks because it’s weird to her that no one, in fiction or maybe otherwise, seems to check on the boy in moments like this. 

He smiles at her, all dimples, and he softly says, “I’m good.” 

It’s quiet between the two of them but it’s an okay kind of quiet; no words are necessary, there’s nothing left unsaid. They lay together like this for so long, she forgets what time even is. Seconds become hours and she briefly wonders if it’s still today after she dozes off for a few minutes. She listens to his breathing and decides it’s her new favorite song. 

After a while, Cesar mumbles something too soft for her to make out the words. Her head lols to the side, nose brushing against his bare shoulder. She fights the urge to press a kiss to his collarbone just because it’s there, just because she can. “You say something?”

“Maybe,” he spits out, making a face as though the words don’t taste right on his tongue. As if he’s only saying this because he has to. “Maybe we should just keep this between us.” He goes on to explain how the two of them being together could create a rift in the fam, how Ruby and Jamal may not react well to finding out that they’re together, and even though she agrees with him, it still leaves a heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach. 

All she can say is, “Okay,” and he repeats, “Okay,” and once again, they’re lapsed into silence.


	2. i don't know what i'm supposed to do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case anyone was curious, tianna (aka @sleepwithoutdreaming) is a freaking enabler and this is for her
> 
> basically just another rambling of the same night but in cesar's pov
> 
> disclaimer: obviously two fourteen year olds should Not be having sex and i don’t support the notion of two literal children doing the do. also condoms are important. so is communication and consent.
> 
> chapter title/fic title from lord huron’s song “the night we met”

He won’t (can’t) tell anyone, but it was the best night of his night. 

He’d be lying if he hadn’t thought about being with Monse before, he’s a teenage boy for Christ’s sake. But nothing in his wildest imagination could’ve held a candle to the real thing. The memory of her body beneath his, the way they were pressed together, holding on to one another like they had everything to lose, will be something that stays with him for a long, long time. The awkwardness of both of them sex for the first time was to be expected, but he never thought about everything else. Her hands holding his, how beautiful she looked with her eyes shut tight, the inability to resist the urge to kiss her chest as it rose and fell so rapidly, the simple act of him carding his fingers through her hair after everything is all done. He wishes he had a camera to capture the look on her face as he had done that; he had never seen anyone so beautiful in his life. 

If it was anyone else maybe it would’ve been awkward after the fact, but it’s them and it isn't He can’t help but feel a little shy now that they’re both somewhat clothed and covered. She still looks like a goddess, skin shiny and glowing in a way he’s never seen anyone look before (maybe she really is a goddess, or at least an angel, that would definitely explain a lot), hair dishevelled yet somehow still perfect looking, the mark from his mouth on her neck red and needy just like they both were not too long ago. The more he looks at her, the more he wants to kiss her until she forgets her own name. But the more he looks at her, the more it hurts because he knows he won’t be able to. 

Angel and Jesus have been talking lately, he isn’t sure whether or not he should believe a word they say because they’re never sober half the time, but they’ve been talking a lot about Oscar. Words like “good behavior” and “probation” and “out early” have been floating around the air, and he still isn’t sure if the feeling in his stomach is excitement or dread. 

He’s always known that Oscar was going to come home, whether it be sooner or later, he always knew it would happen. And he knows he should be happy that his brother is getting let out sooner than his sentencing time -- and he is, of course he is. But he isn’t ready for it. Things have mellowed out over the past few years with Oscar being locked up and the Santos having no one’s ass to kiss or alcohol to mooch off of. He isn’t ready for the influx of Santos sitting on a couch on his front lawn twenty-four/seven. Whenever he thinks about it, about Jamal or Ruby or Monse stopping by with all of the guys hanging around, he forgets how to breathe. He’s always tried to keep this life separate from his life with the fam; yes, they know he’s affiliated and yes, they know who his family is, but that’s all they get to know. He doesn’t need them getting sucked into his world the way he was. Or worse, he doesn’t need them seeing what really goes on behind the curtains and deciding that he’s too much of a hassle to keep around. He’s used to people leaving him, but he’ll never get over losing the three of them. 

And in a few weeks, months, however long it takes for puberty to do its thing to her, he knows he won’t be the only one attracted to Monse. He isn’t stupid. He hears the comments his primos make about other girls in the neighborhood, the whistling and cat calling just the tip of the iceberg that is what they say after she flips them off and keeps on walking. Thinking about them saying the same to Monse makes him so angry he gets sick to his stomach. And Monse is notorious for speaking before thinking. And the Santos are notorious for teaching lessons to anyone who tries talking slick to them. 

That’s why he says it. Why he does a lot of things. And he can spend night after night trying to talk himself into believing that he’s doing what’s best for everyone, but he still hates himself as he chokes out, “Maybe we should just keep this between us.”

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on tumblr!! @ creativityprince


End file.
